Private Family's All Here

[Sergeant Omen]

Location: Empress Teta, Home of Omen and Aren

Omen had been working overtime in the kitchen, trying to get ready for the party that Aren had told him they were having last-minute. That meant getting/making enough alcohol that Korda could get properly wasted with. There was at least one other person Korda was bringing, someone who was close to him, and it was their kid, apparently? He didn't want even to contemplate how that happened. Maybe Korda was testing about being a surrogate father? Either way, Ones helped that kid when he decided to run them through training drills.

The Clone was making fruit salad and opening up bags of party snacks for everyone to enjoy, putting them all on the coffee table. Aren should be just closing up right now and headed home. Now it was only a matter of time before someone came through the door. In the meantime, Omen could look around and smile at his amazing party-decorating skills.

Jett Vox Korda Veydran Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

By the time Aren finally made it home, she was more than ready to close the door on work for the evening. Ordinarily she might have stayed at the shop another hour finishing whatever project had caught her attention, but today was different. Ryela only turned thirteen once, and Aren had absolutely no intention of being late to her birthday party because she'd lost track of time staring at a circuit board.

The door opened and Aren stepped inside, setting her things aside before stopping to survey what Omen had accomplished in her absence. Decorations had transformed the room, snacks covered the coffee table, and enough preparation had clearly happened in the kitchen that she suspected he'd barely stopped moving since she'd left him. Her expression gradually softened into a smile. "You've been busy." She crossed toward the kitchen, stealing a piece of fruit from the salad as she passed and popping it into her mouth before Omen could object. "This actually looks really good."

It was strange to think that Ryela was thirteen already. Aren could remember when she had been considerably smaller, back when the adults around her had taken turns keeping an eye on her and trying to stay one step ahead of whatever curiosity had gotten hold of her next. Somehow that little girl had become a teenager. Aren wasn't entirely certain when that had happened, and she suspected Rynar was probably even less prepared to acknowledge it.

She wandered closer to Omen and slipped her arms around him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. "Thank you for getting everything ready." Her eyes swept across the room once more before narrowing slightly when they reached the collection intended for the adults. "And I see you made sure Korda won't be suffering from an unfortunate shortage of alcohol." The dry amusement in her voice made it clear she wasn't surprised in the slightest.

Aren rested against Omen for another moment before looking toward the door. There was something unexpectedly significant about thirteen. Ryela wasn't an adult, regardless of what the girl herself might increasingly insist, but she wasn't the little kid Aren remembered helping look after anymore either. She was becoming her own person, stubbornness, curiosity and all.

"Thirteen," Aren murmured, shaking her head with a small smile. "When did that happen?"

Her attention shifted back to Omen, and the smile turned mischievous. "Think Rynar's ready for a teenage daughter?" She paused for barely a beat before answering her own question. "Actually, don't answer that. Nobody's ready for that."

Sergeant Omen Jett Vox Korda Veydran

 

[Korda Veydran]

The door opened with a quiet hiss, followed by the heavy sound of boots crossing the threshold.
Korda Veydran stepped inside.
For once, there was no beskar'gam accompanying him.
That alone made his arrival feel strangely different.

The seven-foot Mandalorian had traded the familiar weight of his armor for something considerably more casual. A worn leather vest hung open across his chest, leaving much of his torso exposed beneath it. A pair of rugged jeans sat low on his hips, held up by a heavy belt whose buckle bore the cracked crimson krayt skull of Clan Veydran. Several chains hung from the belt and jeans, giving the otherwise practical outfit a distinctly rough edge.

Combat boots completed the look.
Yet the lack of armor did little to make Korda look less intimidating.
Without the beskar covering him, the history written across his skin was simply easier to see.

Mandalorian tattoos and darker anarchic markings covered much of his exposed body, winding across his arms, shoulders, chest, and back in a chaotic mixture of symbols and personal marks. They disappeared beneath the skin around his neck, ending precisely where the seal of his armored suit normally concealed them. Some were deliberate pieces of Mandalorian tradition. Others looked considerably less ceremonial.

All of them belonged to him.
A cigar rested between his teeth as he stepped farther into the house, his expression already carrying a faint amusement as he looked around.
He gave a quiet chuckle.
"Looks like you two didn't waste any time."

Oro shifted against him.
Korda glanced down toward the hognose, then toward the cigar.
"Don't start."
Apparently, she had already started.

With an amused shake of his head, Korda removed the cigar from his mouth and put it out before slipping it into a small pouch attached to his belt. He rarely went anywhere without his armor anymore, but tonight was different. Tonight was family.

And family didn't need a helmet.
His eyes moved across the room again before settling on Omen.
A genuine smile pulled at his features.
Korda crossed the room and gave Omen a firm pat across the back, the gesture carrying the easy familiarity of brothers who had long since stopped needing words to establish where they stood with one another.

"Good to see you, vod."
His attention then shifted toward Aren.

Korda straightened slightly and dipped his head respectfully toward her.
"Aren."
The greeting was simple, but there was genuine respect behind it. She was Omen's partner, and that alone made her family in Korda's eyes.
His hand remained at his side, wrapped loosely around a small wooden box.

It wasn't particularly large, but it had clearly been made with care. Dark wood had been polished smooth, with a simple metal latch securing the lid. Korda kept it tucked close to himself as he moved, careful not to jostle whatever rested inside.

Then his expression changed as his attention turned toward Ryela.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Hard to believe she's thirteen."
Korda shook his head slowly.
"Thirteen."

He repeated the number as though saying it aloud might somehow make it more believable.
"Feels like yesterday she was still a little kid."
A crooked grin appeared.
"And now I'm apparently old enough to have a thirteen-year-old niece."

He let out another quiet laugh.
"Which is bullshit, by the way. I'm not old."
There was a brief pause.
"...Probably."

His eyes wandered for a moment, the humor in them giving way to something more distant.
"It feels like yesterday I was on Yaga Minor."
The words came quieter this time.
Korda's thumb brushed absently across the edge of the wooden box.

"Now I'm standing here realizing I've basically got a thirteen-year-old niece."
He looked back toward Omen and Aren, a faint smile returning.
"Time's a strange bastard."
The heavier thought lasted only a moment before Korda lifted the wooden box slightly.

"And I didn't come empty-handed."
He gave the box a small shake.
Something inside made a faint sound against the wood.
His grin widened.
"Figured thirteen deserved something worth remembering."

Tags: Aren D'Shade Sergeant Omen Jett Vox

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen was pulling a roast out of the oven when Aren came in. "Only the best for you." Aren asked him to make food for a birthday party for a kid he had never met, but he served at her pleasure. "And hopefully Korda will only get inebriated and not fully belligerent. Otherwise, this party is going to a disaster." And the worst part was Omen didn't think Korda could be contained if he did. But hopefully, they would get lucky.

Running her hands along Aren's, Omen savored her touch. As she said, time went fast, and he wanted to savor her holding him while they both were in their home, not always necessarily possible with Aren's work and his compulsion to explore and travel in the stars. He couldn't help but chuckle as he raised one of her hands up to kiss. "Aka, why you are hesident to have kids?" And yet they were both considering it. What fools were they...?

As Korda came into the townhouse, Omen raised an eyebrow at what he was wearing. "You do know that this is a kids' party, right? You might want to put an actual shirt on." What Korda was wearing didn't surprise him. He was Mandalorian through and through and proud of it, even when his dress bordered on indecency. The Clone took the slap on his back with a grunt, saying back. "It's good to see you too." When Korda said it, he was surprised by how much time had passed, and he shook his head. "Just be glad you are here to witness it with your tendencies. And when is the birthday girl actually going to arrive?" As Korda rattled his gift inside the wooden box, the Clone only hoped his and Aren's gifts were good enough for the little Mando.

Aren D'Shade Korda Veydran